A small sound came from the back of Shannon’s throat as she understood the raw truth of Whip’s statement. Deep inside, she had always assumed it was Prettyface’s snarling presence that had kept Whip from touching her in any way at all.
Now Shannon knew how badly she had misread the situation. Whip was as smart and quick as he was strong.
And he was frighteningly strong.
«But that isn’t what I want from you,» Whip said, his voice lethally calm.
«Wh —» Shannon’s voice broke.
She licked her dry lips, took a quick breath, and tried again.
«What d-do you want from me?» she asked.
At first Shannon didn’t think Whip would answer. Then he took one last, gliding stride toward her. When he stopped, he was so close to Shannon that she couldn’t take a breath without her breasts touching his hard chest.
Slowly, giving Shannon every chance to flinch away, Whip lifted his hands to her face.
She didn’t move. She simply watched him with eyes that were both wary and defiant.
The bullwhip he still carried in his left hand caressed Shannon’s cheek so lightly it felt more like a breath than a touch. The supple leather coils traced her eyebrows, the straight line of her nose, her high cheekbones.
It was the last thing Shannon had expected from Whip. The touches were so gentle she barely felt them. They shouted of Whip’s restraint.
And they teased her even as they reassured her.
She closed her eyes, wanting to concentrate on the elusive, shimmering sensations that shivered through her body. She took in a quick breath and smelled the wood smoke and evergreen on Whip, as well as the primal, disturbing scent of blood.
«Whip?» Shannon whispered through trembling lips.
His wrist flicked and the leather coils vanished. A vague thump told Shannon that the bullwhip had landed on the floor.
Whip took the shotgun from her hands and uncocked it with a few swift, easy motions. When he replaced the weapon on its pegs over the door, Shannon numbly noted that there was blood on both of his hands.
Whip saw the look on her face when he turned back to her.
«It’s all right, honey girl,» he said. «You don’t need the shotgun. I won’t hurt you. I’m just trying to answer your question about what I want from you. But I don’t have any words to tell you…»
Callused fingertips lightly traced Shannon’s hairline, the rims of her ears, the dense mahogany eyelashes quivering against her cheek, the trembling line of her lips, the pulse beating frantically in her throat.
«Are you truly afraid of me?» Whip asked huskily.
Shannon shook her head. «N-no.»
«You ought to be.»
«Why?»
«I want what I first saw in your walk,» he said simply.
«I–I don’t understand.»
«Neither do I. I’ve never wanted a woman the way I want you, all at once, no thought, no caution, no right or wrong, nothing but a hard need riding me all day, every day. And the nights…Jesus. The nights are pure, undiluted hell.»
Shannon tried to speak. No words came out of her dry throat.
Whip’s thumbs traced her mouth, caressing it as intimately as a kiss. Her softness lured him, and her heat, and the ragged sigh she finally gave, a sigh that was also his name.
«You have a walk like honey,» Whip said huskily, bending down to her. «Kiss me, Shannon. I want to find out if your mouth is half as arousing as your walk.»
Shannon made a soft, startled sound when Whip’s teeth nibbled at her lips and his tongue probed the corners of her mouth. Tingling sensations rippled through her, shortening her breath until she felt dizzy. Her hands went up to his arms, anchoring her in a world that was dissolving beneath her feet one frantic heartbeat at a time.
«Whip?» she whispered raggedly.
«That’s it,» he said against her mouth. «Open those soft lips a little more. I have to taste you.»
«Taste me?»
«Yes. Now.»
Whip’s tongue slid into Shannon’s mouth, caressing her, tasting her with a hushed intensity that made her tremble. An answering tremor went through Whip.
Curious, Shannon looked at him. His forehead was creased and his eyes were closed. His cut, bleeding hands held her face as though she were more fragile than a butterfly’s wings. Despite the potent hunger that tightened every muscle in his body, Whip’s mouth only sipped lightly at hers.
Beneath her hands, Whip’s arms felt like steel bands. His muscles were corded and his breath was ragged. He could have taken whatever he wanted from her much more easily than he had subdued Prettyface. Shannon knew it.
And so did Whip.
Yet still he demanded nothing of her. He simply asked, coaxed, mutely pleaded to be allowed into the lush darkness behind her lips.
Shannon sighed and gave Whip what he desired. His tongue glided over hers, coaxing her to touch him in turn. The caress was tantalizing, irresistible, as warm and gentle as sunrise itself.
A small sound came from the back of Shannon’s throat as she understood Whip’s silent message. He was telling her without words how much he wanted her and how careful he would be if she gave herself to him.
The thought of such a tender sharing took the world from beneath Shannon’s feet. Her fingers dug into Whip’s arms as her knees loosened.
«Whip?»
Shannon’s muffled whisper was barely understandable. Whip was tempted to ignore the question in her tone, but didn’t. Despite her previous assurances, he was afraid that fear rather than passion had caused her fingers to clench around his arms.
Reluctantly Whip lifted his head and looked down into Shannon’s dazed blue eyes. When she still didn’t speak, he nuzzled the corner of her mouth with his mustache.
She smiled slightly and kissed the rough silk mustache that was caressing her. Whip eased the tip of his tongue into the corner of her smile. Then he probed between her lips several times, slowly, easing in and out of her warmth, teasing and tasting her lightly, hotly.
Shannon made another throttled sound and shivered.
«What is it?» Whip asked in a low voice. «Are you afraid of me after all?»
She shook her head. While she did, she watched Whip’s mouth, wondering how anything that looked so hard and sharply controlled could feel so soft and wild against her lips.
«I —» Shannon blinked, touched her tongue to the corner of her mouth, and whispered, «I feel dizzy.»
Whip’s smile was dark, swift, very male. Shannon’s eyes were a smoky sapphire that sent tongues of desire stabbing through him. His own eyes became a smoldering quicksilver as he watched Shannon lick her lips again.
«Dizzy,» Whip repeated huskily.
She nodded and touched the tip of her tongue uncertainly to her lips.
«Put your arms around my neck and hold on,» Whip said. «I’ll make sure you don’t fall.»
As Whip spoke, he drew Shannon’s arms around his neck. The movement brought her up on tiptoe and pulled her against his body. Her breath came in with a soft, ripping sound that acted on Whip like a shot of whiskey.
«Now we can do this properly,» Whip said.
«What?»
«Lick your lips again, honey girl. I’ll show you.»
Shannon hesitated, then did as Whip asked.
No sooner had Shannon’s tongue touched her lips than Whip bent down and caught her mouth beneath his. His tongue pressed into the moist darkness behind her teeth, caressing her even as he filled her. He felt the hesitation of her body, the quick intake of her breath, and then the trembling pressure of her tongue against his in secret caress.
Whip made a low sound and gathered Shannon even more closely along his body. His tongue began a sultry rhythm of penetration and retreat, return and withdrawal. After a few moments her arms tightened around his neck, lifting her into the kiss.